W.C. I lined up a series of small plastic parts--four and twenty total--and I pressed them all one against another between my hands. I slid them. I slid them left. I slid them right. I then turned them. The lesson I experimented with was that of the importances of precision in aligning the parts, as by an imprecise alignment led them to buckle and scatter. As I turned them, they buckled. They scattered, and I was forced to realign them.
Then I remarked inwardly about the futility of the exercise. I knew what would happen. I understood why it would happen. At no point was the ability to turn this line of plastic pieces useful. Therein lay the lesson I sought, whereupon I recognized the wisdom of not engaging in such experiments. To recognize futility is useful, but not enough. To recognize why it was futile and not try--that would be wisdom.
what's it to you?
who go